


The End We Start From

by Alexandria (heartfullofelves)



Category: Gladiatrix Series - Russell Whitfield
Genre: Ancient Rome, F/F, Light Bondage, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Veteran Gladiators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-18 10:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11289027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/pseuds/Alexandria
Summary: Lysandra returns to Rome, and to Illeana.





	The End We Start From

They stood frozen, staring at each other. Lysandra hadn’t seen Illeana for a year, but she looked much the same: the same dark hair, the same green eyes, the same full lips. Lysandra, still drinking in Illeana’s appearance, cleared her throat.

“I have come home,” she announced.

Illeana replied not with words, but with a step forward, wrapping her arms around Lysandra’s lithe form. Lysandra returned the embrace, clinging to Illeana as she’d wanted to do but had denied herself for so long, while Illeana inhaled deeply, face buried in Lysandra’s black locks.

“It’s good to see you, Lysandra,” said Illeana, touching Lysandra’s cheek.

“And you,” replied Lysandra, gazing into Illeana’s eyes as they parted.

She’d always prided herself on being a strong Spartan woman who didn’t let her emotions rule her, but after everything she’d gone through – not just in the past three years, but throughout her whole life – she deserved some intimacy, and the moment _was_ intimate. Since Eirianwen had died in the arena, slaughtered by one of her own, Lysandra hadn’t allowed herself to feel this way about anyone, but Illeana had somehow become her friend, and they’d gone to Dacia and suffered through war together, fighting on the same side this time and, well, Illeana was still the most beautiful woman Lysandra had ever seen. It was time to move on.

The moment was short-lived, however, as Illeana suggested they move into the triclinium. Once they were settled on the couches, a slave stepped forward and poured wine for them. Lysandra tipped her cup back, draining it in one go.

Illeana watched over the brim of her cup, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t you water your wine till you can barely taste the grapes?” she remarked.

Lysandra, holding out her cup for a refill, said, “That is true, or it was once.”

After the war, she’d reverted to her old laconic way of speaking, and was less likely to explain herself. It irritated her friends in Halicarnassus, but she no longer cared what people thought of her. She’d grown that much.

Illeana nodded. “I understand.” After a pause, she confessed, “I get nightmares.”

Lysandra’s ice blue eyes snapped towards her. “Of what?”

“When I close my eyes, I relive the battles. I don’t think I’ve had a single night’s sleep where I haven’t dreamt about it.” Illeana shivered, presumably remembering the horrors they’d seen and taken part in in Dacia. “Sometimes I wake up screaming. Sometimes I wake up and I’ve scratched myself so hard I’ve drawn blood. I’ve been dreading going to sleep each night for a year, Lysandra,” she said with tortured eyes. She wore makeup, but Lysandra could see the dark bags beneath her eyes.

Lysandra drained her second cup of wine, lightheaded now as the alcohol made its way through her body. “How may I help?”

“If I’m exhausted enough, perhaps the dreams won’t come,” said Illeana. “Fuck me,” she requested, moving to Lysandra’s couch and touching her arm.

“I will,” Lysandra promised, heart quickening at Illeana’s touch. She’d desired the Aesalon Nocturna for a long time, though she hadn’t admitted it, and now she could have her. It was what she’d come to Rome for. “Anything you want.”

Illeana grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

* * *

Lysandra pressed Illeana against the wall. She held Illeana’s wrists up by her head as she kissed those torturous plump lips until they were red. Sharing a heated gaze, Lysandra released Illeana’s wrists and cupped her cheek, leaning in for another kiss and slipping her tongue past Illeana’s lips. Illeana let Lysandra in and grabbed her arse to pull her closer as Lysandra drank from Illeana’s mouth. Their breasts brushed together. When Lysandra came up for air, they were both panting.

Illeana slipped away from the wall and took Lysandra’s hand, tugging her over to the bed. Lysandra’s heart almost stopped as Illeana pushed her backwards and she fell onto the mattress, but she regained her composure and pulled Illeana down beside her. Sweeping her hair out of her face, she rolled them both over so that she knelt on top of Illeana.

Illeana grinned, though her eyes didn’t change. “Should’ve known you like to be on top.”

“There are many things you do not know about me,” answered Lysandra. She reached down to brush her lips across Illeana’s. “But I am sure you will have no trouble learning them.”

“I agree.” Illeana smirked, gazing up at Lysandra. “Why don’t you teach me?”

“I will. With pleasure.” Lysandra allowed herself a smile, enjoying the banter that came with being in the company of her old rival. She pressed her knee between Illeana’s thighs and kissed her again, hard and deep.

“Mm,” said Illeana. “I like that. You know, you’re a better kisser than I thought you’d be.” Lysandra scowled, making Illeana laugh. “Don’t be offended; it’s a compliment.”

“It is hard not to be offended when someone doubts my kissing abilities,” Lysandra retorted. “All my life, people have thought I was a prude virgin.”

Illeana chuckled. “Forget I said anything. In fact, why don’t you punish me?”

“Punish you?” Lysandra frowned.

“Bind my hands so I can’t move,” Illeana explained. “I’ve a silk scarf somewhere nearby.”

Lysandra’s eyes widened, but as an image of Illeana lying with her hands tied together and her legs spread open entered her mind, she felt herself grow wet. “Where is it?”

“Try under the bed.”

Lysandra slid off Illeana and bent down to search. She grabbed the green scarf she found and returned to the bed.

“It matches your eyes,” she observed, staring at Illeana, who had removed her tunic and now lay there in just her _subligaculum_. “Where did you get it?”

“It was a gift,” replied Illeana, but that was all she would say.

Lysandra glanced at the scarf and then at Illeana. “How do you want to do this?”

Illeana stretched out, smiling. “Hmm,” she said, testing out her position. She reached her arms over her head and brought her wrists together. “Like this.”

Lysandra nodded. “You will tell me if you need me to release you?”

Illeana looked as if she were about to roll her eyes. “Yes. Will you release me if I tell you to?”

Lysandra gave Illeana’s cheek a small stroke. “Yes, you can trust me.”

“Good. Get on with it then.”

Lysandra ran the silk through her hand, then bent over to loop it around Illeana’s wrists, knowing as she did so that her breasts were in Illeana’s face. She bent over further than she needed to as she knotted the scarf, making sure it was loose enough for Illeana to escape out of if she needed.

“There,” Lysandra murmured. “Now we are ready.”

She got up and stood beside the bed. Holding Illeana’s intense gaze, she undid her belt and, taking her time, slipped out of her chiton. Once naked, she returned to the bed and straddled Illeana’s hips, coming down for a dirty kiss before sitting up and sliding her hand up Illeana’s torso to cup her left breast. She brushed her thumb across Illeana’s dark pink nipple, noticing Illeana’s sharp inhalation, then circled her areola until she cried out. Lysandra smirked.

“Stop teasing, Lysandra,” Illeana hissed, her breathing unsteady.

Lysandra put her finger on Illeana’s lips to shush her. “I am simply warming you up,” she said. “Unless you would rather I fuck you dry?”

Illeana moaned. Her cheeks were flushed. “I’m many things right now, but dry isn’t one of them.”

“I am glad to hear it,” replied Lysandra.

“Then hurry up and fuck me.”

She shuffled down Illeana’s body, an awkward manoeuvre, and settled herself between Illeana’s legs. She untied Illeana’s _subligaculum_ and pulled it off, throwing it over her shoulder. She kissed her way up both of Illeana’s tanned, muscular thighs, taking in the scent of her arousal, before spreading her open and licking her clit. Illeana stiffened. Lysandra grabbed Illeana’s hips, tracing the bones in slow motions with her thumbs as she licked Illeana’s nub and listened to her gasps.

When Lysandra’s tongue began to cramp, she stopped and slid her right hand down Illeana’s thigh and then back up it several times, then slipped a finger inside Illeana’s entrance. Illeana gasped, then laughed.

“It’s been a while,” she admitted, apologising for her apparent surprise.

“No matter,” replied Lysandra, then set her mouth to other business, continuing to tongue Illeana’s clit.

She was warm and wet, and Lysandra soon added another finger, slowly pumping them as Illeana’s walls clenched. When she cried out for more, Lysandra slid in a third finger. Illeana’s scent clouded her senses and she focused on licking and thrusting until Illeana’s moans came to a crescendo and she arched her back, shuddering as she climaxed.

Lysandra brought her down from the high, then untied the scarf to release her hands. The first thing Illeana did was grab Lysandra’s face and bring her down for an open-mouthed kiss. Then she took Lysandra’s hand and sucked her fingers.

Lysandra raised an eyebrow. “I assume you like to taste yourself?”

“I’m told I’m delicious. It’s not fair if only one of us gets to try it.” Illeana grinned.

“Speaking of trying,” said Lysandra, “I believe it is your turn to…” She grabbed Illeana’s hand and guided it to her breast.

Illeana squeezed Lysandra’s breast. “I believe it is.”

* * *

Much later, Lysandra slept with her head against Illeana’s shoulder. The room smelt of sweat and cunt. The midnight hour was upon them, but Illeana’s green eyes were still wide open. Without making a sound, she slipped from the bed and pulled a light robe over her shoulders before padding out of the room. She picked up an almost full amphora of wine that a careless slave had left out and took it to the atrium, where she sat by the pool’s edge and looked up at the night sky. Illeana drank.

She found no peace in gazing at the stars, nor in drinking until her fingers shook, but she did so anyway. Now that her fighting days were over, she didn’t know what to do with herself. She’d staggered through life for the past year, hoping to find some meaning, some great reason to live now that she’d lost her love of fighting and what little had remained of her innocence. The scent memory of the blood and shit of the dead still invaded her senses, and while wine and sex took the emptiness away for a time, the effects would wear off and she’d be back to square one in no time.

Her thoughts turned to the woman asleep in her bed. Lysandra had suffered alongside her, _led_ her into battle, and had had her world turned upside down too. She’d seen the stretchmarks on Lysandra’s belly and Lysandra had told her she’d had a child and given it to her Spartan father to raise. Lysandra wasn’t ready to be a parent; she had to find herself again, just like Illeana. Illeana was glad this kindred spirit had travelled all the way to Rome to be with her. Perhaps with time, they could heal together.

Illeana shivered, having grown cold. Though she didn’t believe in the gods and knew it was futile, she sent a quick prayer to Morpheus in the hopes that she might sleep a dreamless sleep tonight. She sighed, and returned to her bedroom.

Lysandra hadn’t moved. Illeana’s lips curved as she took in the sight. Lysandra had once been her formidable opponent, and now here she was, harmless and peaceful and sleeping in Illeana’s bed. Illeana lay down beside her and closed her eyes. She matched her breathing with Lysandra’s – in, pause, out, pause – until her heartbeat slowed and she found herself drifting off.

She was still plagued by dreams that night – there was no magical cure for that – but when she cried out in her sleep, Lysandra woke her and comforted her, and it helped.

“I’m sorry,” she said, but Lysandra didn’t seem to mind.

When she curled into Lysandra to go back to sleep, she knew Lysandra was here to stay. She wasn’t alone; she had someone like her, someone who _understood_. She hadn’t known how much she’d needed that.


End file.
